The Milk Drinker's Revenge
by Lady NeverAfterNon
Summary: The Dovahkiin has picked the wrong pocket, the Stormcloaks are trying for total Skyrim domination, and there's wheat being mysteriously pillaged.  It's enough to give Lydia a headache. R/R, please!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Still playin the game, which is _awesome_. Dear god I love Bethesda.

**Disclaimer**: I_ own nothing_

_._

_._

_._

**The Milk Drinker's Revenge**

**By:** Lady NeverAfterNon

.

.

Farkas paused outside of Belethor's general goods store when he felt the slide of someone's hand on his ass, no doubt heading for his money pouch. A thief. Good. It was never a bad thing to demonstrate to people that the Companions were a force not to be fucked with, and the uncontested badasses of Skyrim. He turned, reaching for the broadsword on his back. The would-be thief was going to be in pieces and didn't even know it. No one took from the Companions and got away with it. A woman in the most mismatched set of armor he'd ever seen was crouched behind him, hands firmly planted on his bottom. A look of intense concentration was on her pretty face. Only, she wasn't exactly picking his pocket. She was feeling him up.

His eyes slid to the Housecarl standing behind her. Lydia had been a resident of Whiterun for as long as Farkas could remember, and if memory served him correctly the Jarl had appointed her in service to the new Thane. Lydia didn't look like she was guarding a noble at the moment. The tall brunette Nord had a hand over her eyes and she was pinching the bridge of her nose. Her expression looked rather pained.

Farkas looked back down at the lady who still had both hands on his backside. That must be the new Thane then. "Uh-"

She looked up at him and shook herself, just seeming to realize that she had both hands on a stranger's posterior. She waved at him. "Hi!"

Lydia let out a faint groan. "Oh god."

Farkas coughed. "Hi-, uh, Miss-?"

"May I present the new Thane of Whiterun." Lydia sounded like she was having teeth pulled.

The woman extended a hand for him to shake, other still firmly clamped to his backside. Farkas shook it, wondering what the hell was wrong with this situation. A thief he could punch, but this- this wasn't in the rule books. What to do?

"Uh." He gestured at her hand. "Could you- ?"

The woman looked down at the offending limb in surprise as though she hadn't realized she was still gooching a random stranger. "Woops. Sorry about that sir. Sometimes it gets away from me."

Lydia choked.

Farkas didn't know what to do with her. He didn't _want_ to kick her ass. She was very pretty in an odd, mismatched sort of way. Even if she was an Imperial. The red warpaint was a stark contrast to her eyes, and moved in sharp slashes down her throat. Her brown hair hung down to frame her tanned face, braids peeking out of the thick wavy locks, almost asking him to put his fingers in her hair to see if it was as thick and soft as it looked. He squelched that thought promptly. Just because she'd felt him up did not mean it was okay to return the favor. Her pale eyes twinkled at him as though she knew exactly what he'd been thinking, and that it was most definitely okay to return the favor.

"Farkas!"

He winced. Aela's voice behind cracked across the Whiterun square like a dragon blast. For some reason he felt like he'd been caught red handed with a sweet roll.

The Thane peeked around him and her eyes widened. "Wow that chick has no pants on. Heh, and I can see her boobies."

Lydia let out a faint whimper and Farkas choked on a laugh. That was Aela, not that he'd ever mention it to the Huntress's face. He turned. Aela was striding across the market place with the tough as nails facade firmly in place. The only one to see her softer side was Skjor, and even that was only a rumor. Ria trailed behind Aela like a puppy. Farkas squared his shoulders.

Aela stopped in front of them and her gaze landed on Lydia's errant charge. "You!"

The Thane cocked her head. "Me?"

"You are the coward who stood by when we Companions dispatched the giant."

"My Housecarl said it would be disastrous to my health should I attempt to intervene."

Lydia threw up her hands in exasperation. "And that was the only time you chose to listen to me."

Aela's gaze narrowed. "You certainly had no trouble running up and looting the giant's body when we finished."

"I may have let the gold go to my head and might have taken care of the rest of his fellows after that," the Thane said cheerfully, "I love looting. Can't seem to help myself."

Farkas coughed. She certainly hadn't been looting when she'd felt him up.

"Killed his fellows eh?" Aela said, eyebrow raised.

The Thane nodded sagely. "Yep. I was minding my own business, rifling through their chests, and they must have taken offense to something I said."

"Or it might have been your presence there, my Thane," Lydia muttered.

"That too."

Aela put her hands on her hips. "Killing giants takes courage. Should you decide that you want to leave the ranks of the milk drinkers and join Skyrim's true heroes, go see Kodlak Whitemane up at Jorrvaskr."

"I think I will," the Thane grinned at him, and Farkas felt distinctly like the mice that he enjoyed pouncing on in the moonlighted plains when he was a wolf, "Lead on!"

Farkas and the rest of his shield brethren led the way back through Whiterun to Jorrvaskr, and he had the sneaking suspicion that the new Thane was checking out his backside. By the time they reached the safety of Jorrvaskr's walls his cheeks were burning pink. Farkas was annoyed with himself. Why was he getting so worked up about some woman's interest? He was certainly no stranger to taking the Bannered Mare's barmaids for a tumble in the sack, so why he was blushing like a first timer was rankling at him. And the butterflies infesting his stomach, don't get him started on the damn butterflies. They had no business in the guts of a Companion.

For some reason he couldn't get her pale eyes out of his head. They shone like moons in her face. And the little crinkles at the corner of her eyes when she grinned like an imp were fucking adorable.

"Kodlak is downstairs," Aela instructed, "Seek him out should you find the stones to join us."

"Right-o." The Thane saluted, then turned to her Housecarl, "You can chill here, I don't think I'm going to be in danger talking to some old dude."

Aela looked like she was going to murder something at 'old dude.'

Lydia sank into the nearest chair with a groan and waved a hand at Tilma. "Only if you don't steal anything, my Thane, so watch your fingers. God I need a drink."

"Aye aye, Sir." The Thane tromped off.

Farkas sank nonchalantly into the chair next to Lydia. He figured now was as good a time as any for some Q&A. He waited until the Housecarl was finished with her meal of grilled leeks and cheese and was nursing her ale before interrogating her about her slightly weird, but very pretty, Thane. The fire was crackling merrily and the wooden table felt familiar underneath his forearms.

"So," he began, "Vilkas is better at talkin', but I gotta ask-"

"Ask what?" Lydia interrupted him, "If you expect me to speak ill of my Thane, you will regret it. I know she's a little odd, but she's good people."

Farkas scratched at the stubble on his chin, perplexed. "I wasn't gonna speak ill of her. Damn I'm bad at this talking stuff. I wanted to know about her, that's all."

Lydia laughed. "Oh is that it? Well, she may be my Thane but she's my best friend." Lydia nursed her ale, staring into the fire. "I thought I would be stuck in Whiterun forever, but then one day she comes waltzing in saying something about a dragon. A dragon, right? Shit's the stuff of legend. Next thing I know she's back, killed one and the body is out twitching by the Western Watchtower. I've followed her from Riften to Solitude, and everywhere in between. It's been _fun,_ I haven't had this much fun since I was a kid. We went through this Dwemer dungeon up North last week. Took us three days to get through and we almost died fighting a Centurion at the end. She Spoke the thing to death; I didn't think get out of that one."

"Spoke?" Farkas was confused. Vilkas had said once that it was possible to talk someone's ear off, but he didn't think that that was what Lydia meant.

Lydia considered him over the rim of her glass. "The Thu'um. She's Dovahkiin, Dragonborn. She kills a dragon, absorbs the soul, and then sees a word of power somewhere and _can use it_."

"Wow." Farkas was impressed. The Thane was tiny. He couldn't imagine her kicking anything's ass, let alone a dragon.

The emergence of Vilkas and the Thane distracted him from commenting on Lydia's Thane's diminutive stature. Vilkas looked like he'd been forced to chew glass so Farkas took that to mean Kodlak had said yes. He tried not to grin. Somehow the thought that the little Thane might be among them, near _him,_ for a while made his insides oddly warm and fluttery. Damn butterflies.

Farkas and Lydia followed the two out to the training grounds where Vilkas snatched up a shield and sword.

"Come on," he taunted, "You can't hurt me."

The Thane watched him for a moment and then her shoulders slumped. "You're probably right."

Lydia slapped her Thane's shoulder. "Bah. Go get em' tiger."

The Thane dug through her knapsack. "No, no, no not that one. Hmmm. Shit, I don't do this close combat crap. Ugh. Hey Lydia you still got that ebony sword I gave you a while ago?"

"Do you want the poisoned one or the one that sets people on fire?"

The Thane looked at Vilkas. "Fire."

Lydia withdrew a long thin curved black blade from her pack and tossed it. The Thane gave it an experimental swing before turning to Vilkas. "Oki doki, let's do this."

Vilkas charged her and she barely got out of the way in time. The Thane didn't seem in any hurry to hit him. He'd lunge at her and she'd spring away. Farkas crossed his arms over his chest. There was a nip in the air, a breeze that swung down off of the mountains to dance across the plains. The air was chilly, but he was warm. His eyes followed the fight. He knew his brother well enough that he wasn't giving it is all, but he wasn't going easy on her either.

The Thane seemed to sense that as well and she stabbed him across the back of the legs, getting in a lucky hit. Vilkas yelled, flames licking across the back of his pants, and he went down to one knee. He sprang up a second later telling her she wasn't half bad and had some promise, but Farkas grinned. She'd downed his brother. Not many could claim that feat. Vilkas was a fierce fighter.

"Here." Vilkas shoved his sword at her. "Take this to the Skyforge for sharpening."

"You got it. Come Lydia! To the Skyforge! A glorious quest awaits! You got any laundry that needs doing, Sir?" The Thane called after Vilkas' retreating back.

Farkas chuckled. "Don't push to far, lady."

Those pale eyes twinkled at him in merriment before the Thane turned and started up the path to Eorlund Grey-Mane's forge. Farkas watched her go, or more specifically watched her round armor plated ass swing side to side as she walked. He figured he might as well return the favor. The sun was bright but her grey steel plated armor seemed to swallow all light. The armor shaped her lithe figure like a lover's hand. Normally if someone asked him what he preferred in a woman he'd say give him a bar wench in a easily shoved up cotton dress any day, but damn if the Thane wasn't mesmerizing.

He couldn't get her out of his head.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** _ Please let me know what you guys think, feedback would be awesome! And I know I'm not sticking to straight quest story line. I'm kinda making this up as I go, also making stuff up about over use. I'm taking liberties with the material; forgive me._

**Disclaimer**: _I own nothing._

.

.

.

**The Milk Drinker's Revenge**

Chapter 2

.

.

Everything was a blur. Lydia coughed, hating the nauseating rasp of her breath in her chest. She was bent double in dirty water and could barely remain on her feet. She could hear Bel yelling in the next chamber, voice barely discernible over the explosions of her fireballs. The noise of the fire was waning, and Lydia knew that her Thane was weakening. Lydia hauled herself to her feet and fought the spin that the room suddenly decided to go into. They were not going to die here, not if she could help it. She was sick from the poison of those damn Falmer bugs and seeing double, but dammit they were not going to die down here. The Lighthouse and the Frostflow Abyss had seen enough of a massacre; their bodies did not need to add to it.

Lydia braced herself on the long handle of her glass battle axe. For a second she caught a glimpse of her face reflected in the blue green weapon. A pale pinched woman looked back at her with eyes dilated too large in a too thin face. She grimaced. It did not look good. They were screwed if they stayed here much longer. A chittering clatter echoed from the next room and she hauled herself to her feet. Bel was quiet; there were no more explosions. Lydia limped into the room. The chaurus monstrocities had cornered her Thane on a thin ledge of rock and ice. They grouped below her, spraying the ledge with dark poison, trying to hit their victim.

Bel was leaning against the wall and her white face mirrored Lydia's own. Bel's hands were raised and a faint white glow emanated from them. Weak tendrils of magic curled around her Thane's hands but it flickered out before any real good could be done. Lydia took a deep breath, steeling her nerves.

The housecarl's eyes met her wounded friend's before she raised the axe, screaming to draw the attention away from her Thane. Dim light flashed across the opaque surface of her weapon as it arched down into black chitin. The first chaurus bug fell under her blade but she was too weak to kill the rest. They charged her in a black clicking wave of segmented bodies and she stumbled backward over the body of the big one, sitting down in icy water with a splash. Lydia raised a hand over her head and squinched her eyes closed. She was dead, but at least her Thane had a chance to make it out alive.

The two women were still deep in the bowls of the Frostflow Abyss, but there was always hope.

"Duck!" Bel shouted.

Lydia flattened herself into the water without hesitation, stomach roiling at the feel of the hundreds of rubbery blue chaurus eggs beneath her.

"_FUS RO DAH!_"

A wave of sound and compressed air shot over the water covering her. Even though Lydia was not the target, and she had a foot of water protecting her, her ears still rang with the force of the Voice. Hands curled under her arms and Lydia pushed herself out of the water with her Thane's help.

"Come on." Bel's voice was faint and raw from her overuse of magic, but the Thane still managed to pull Lydia to her feet.

Lydia gritted her teeth and slung an arm around her friend's waist as they limped towards the end of the room. The chaurus bugs had been blasted to the opposite wall to land in a jumbled heap, but they wouldn't stay disoriented for long. Lydia forced herself and her charge to limp faster. The chaurus poison was slowly but surely killing them, and the clicking of the creatures was threatening to drive them both mad. They made their way along the icy ledge, breath pluming in front of them in small gray wisps that rapidly dissipated in the freezing cold air.

"Shit it's cold," Bel muttered, words barely getting out around her chattering teeth.

Lydia could only nod; she felt too ill to speak. The clatter of many legs echoed on the ice behind them. The chaurus bugs were closing in on them. Light blossomed at the end of the tunnel and Lydia felt her spirits raise when she saw that it was the light of day, rather than the sickly blue glow of chaurus eggs reflecting off of the ice and snow.

"Come on," Lydia hissed, "We're almost there."

The housecarl heard the tell tale sound of poison arching and a second later felt her Thane's body lock up. Bel screamed, a blood curtling sound that rattled Lydia's teeth. One of the chaurus bugs had latched onto the Thane's back with its wickedly curved pinches, pumping poison into her body. Lydia knocked it away with one metal sheathed hand. With one last ditched effort Lydia heaved her Thane out of the darkness of the caves and into the cold frosty light of Skyrim.

Bel coughed, black tinged blood on her lips. "Where to? Proudspire Manor is closest."

"You can't!" Lydia protested, "Using the Voice again will kill you."

Clicking echoed up from the dark behind them.

"No choice," Bel said through clenched teeth.

Lydia shook her head. "You didn't leave any antidotes in Proudspire, and Vlindrel Hall is too far away."

Bel took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Whiterun then. I have enough for one of us at the house, and I recently made Companion. Perhaps they'll help us."

Lydia said nothing, she had to push Bel's arm from her waist to meet the chaurus that leapt out of the dark at them. Lydia's axe sank into the bug's exoskeleton with a meaty crunch. Her eyes met the sight of hundreds of black chaurus bodies spilling out of the Abyss towards them. Bel and Lydia had attacked their nest and their Falmer masters; the chaurus were out for blood.

Bel's hand gripped Lydia's shoulder and the housecarl barely had a split second to get a good grip on her Thane.

"_WULD NAH KEST_!" Bel screamed, the Voice torn from her in a ragged high pitched keen.

They blasted forward, the countryside rushing past in a blur of ice and trees, and the occasional surprised mountain goat. They came to a stop on a broken and abandoned pathway. The relentless wind whipped snow into their faces and Lydia couldn't stop her teeth from rattling. She could no longer feel her fingers tangled into the leather straps holding her Thane's plate armor together. She didn't know if the numbness was from the cold or the poison, but either way they were seriously screwed. Bel paused to orient herself and then she Shouted again.

"_WULD NAH KEST!_"

The world blasted past them and Lydia could not see any difference in the patch of snow that they'd left, and this new one.

"_WULD NAH KEST!_"

Farther. Was the snow thinning? Lydia couldn't tell.

"_WULD._"

Her Thane was no longer using the full Shout and her Voice was growing weaker and more faint. Lydia risked a glance at her and the woman's face was dead white and her mouth tinged gray. If she kept Shouting, the overuse of the Voice would kill her.

"_WULD._"

Bel doubled over at the gates of Whiterun and vomited black paste onto the stones of the road. Tears ran down her cheeks and the woman slumped unable to go any farther. It wasn't necessary, they were so close to safe haven. Lydia tightened her grasp on her Thane and they stumbled like drunks passed worried looking guards and townsfolk. The road lurched and danced around as though they were underwater, and it was all they could do to stay on their feet. They crashed in the front door of Breezehome and Lydia couldn't force herself to move any farther. She lay on the floor, limbs almost completely numb and vision going dark. The fire was a dull glow; the flickering flames gradually disappearing into a fuzzy haze. Bel drug herself to a cabinet and frantically dug through her potions. Lydia could hear the clink of glass bottles from a long distance away. She was fading fast.

Bel yanked her housecarl's head back and shoved the neck of a small dark bottle down Lydia's throat. Lydia choked, swallowing the nasty bitter liqued. Immediately she felt better, and with that feeling came the overwhelming sense of fatigue.

"What about you, you fool, there's none left," Lydia said, and she promptly lost consciousness.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The bottle clattered from Bel's hand to roll across the floor where it bumped into a barrel. Bel left Lydia slumbering on Breezehome's rough hewn floors and stumbled to the front door where she hailed a courier. She was too sick to go to Jorrvaskr herself. She flicked her hands, sending a weak healing spell curling around her body in warm tendrils. Her magic was almost dead and the spell was so weak. It wasn't enough to cure her but it would stave off the poison until she could get an antidote.

Bel gripped Lydia under the arms and drug her upstairs. The housecarl's room was on the left and she heaved Lydia into bed, making sure that there was a large jug of water nearby for when the woman woke. The antidote worked but it would give her a hell of a thirst headache when she did. Bel just hoped she wouldn't wake up to a thirst headache _and_ the poisoned corpse of her Thane. That would suck. Bel stumbled back downstairs, fingers tearing at her armor. It was suddenly too heavy to bear and she choked under the weight of it. The plate armor fell with a loud clatter and her horned helmet and orcish gauntlets followed suite. Bel kicked off her boots and sprawled in the chair by the fire in nothing but her skivies. Tilma would hopefully be along soon with the antidote. All she had to do was hold out long enough to get it.

She tilted her head back, taking deep breaths. It was going to be a long wait.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Farkas pushed in the heavy doors to Jorrvaskr and made a beeline straight for the steaming cherry pie at the end of the table. His mouth watered. He'd been waiting _ages_ for Tilma's cherry pie, and could swear that the last few legs of the journey from Fort Greymoor he'd been following the scent home. He'd spent the last four days wiping the floor with the bandits infesting Greymoor, and he was craving pie. His eyes strayed to the empty places on the table. Vilkas was buried deep in a book, and Aela and Skjor were talking quietly over their wine. Ria was on a job with Athis, and rest were nowhere to be seen. Probably downstairs catching some much needed sleep.

Farkas dug into his pie, registering the absence of their newest member.

He didn't even know her name. She was just the Thane in his head. And damn, was she in his head a lot. Her eyes, so pale gray they were almost white, stuck in him like arrows. Who did she think she was? He knew he wasn't the brightest sword in the bunch, but even he knew that she spent more time away from Jorrvaskr than all of them combined. He hadn't seen her since her initiation. Dustman's Cairn had been an eyeopener. He didn't think she'd be worth much and Farkas had expected to bring back a corpse instead of a potential Companion. Her fight with Vilkas had said as much. The woman was rotten with a weapon.

Lydia had taken him aside, right before they'd left. She'd quite plainly that she would pull his fingers off and stuff them into every single orifice on his body should he fail to protect the tiny Thane. Well, she didn't need to worry. He couldn't take his eyes off of her even if he wanted to.

Farkas had been afraid for her, and afraid that he wouldn't be enough to protect her. Boy had he'd been wrong. The Thane was wicked with a bow and arrow, which she'd enchanted to fill soul gems whenever she killed something. Which was a lot. The rest of the time she was launching fireballs at the shambling draugr, and chain lightning at the rest. Farkas shivered. She was deadly. He supposed that was why he liked her. There was nothing wrong with a little carnage in a woman. When she'd trapped herself in the cage in the ruins he'd entertained the idea of playing with her, flirting a bit. Then...the Silver Hand showed up and ruined the mood. He'd had no choice but to Change.

His Wolf had decimated his enemies, of course, and he'd retreated to the next room to Change back and let her out. It had been the hardest thing walking back in to face her. Would she hate him? Attack him? It would destroy him if he had to kill her. Instead she had had that look on her face. It was almost _hungry_. Blatant need and want were stamped across her features and she made no effort to hide them. He warmed inside. That had not been a coveting of his Wolf power, but want for him as a man.

He chewed his pie. Now she was gone. He vouched for her and she'd split like chain lightning.

The pie tasted bitter in his mouth all of a sudden. Had she thought him a fool and an easy target? Vilkas probably wouldn't have vouched for her, and he knew Njada sure as hell wouldn't of no matter what the Thane did. He ground his teeth. Shit. _Had_ he been an idiot?

Farkas's eyes fell on Tilma who was tying up a large bottle of resist poison into a satchel. Tilma never left Jorrvaskr. Never

"Where are you going?" he growled, still in a foul mood.

"To Breezehome," she said, lifting her satchel, "The newest member poisoned herself and needs medicine."

Farkas snorted. A likely story. "Give it to me. I'll take it to her."

Now was his chance to confront her, to see if she'd made a fool of him and hung him out to dry.

"I don't know," Tilma warbled, "She paid a courier. It was quite serious."

"I'll see that she gets it," Farkas barked, "You have my word.'

Tilma handed over the satchel and he was out the door, not even waiting for a reply. Farkas's long legs ate up the distance between Jorrvaskr and Breezehome, his dark mood aiding his stride. The citizens of Whiterun took one look at his dour face and got out of his way. Farkas's jaw ticked. If she of all people had thought to get away with treating him like an simpleton, death by poison was going to be the least of her worries. He pushed the door to Breezehome open and the wooden plank door bounced off the wall. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim firelight and he shut the door behind him as he stepped into the room.

It was a pleasent little house and the place had evidence of Proventus Avenicci's decorating all over it.

His blood froze when he noticed the figure sprawled out by the fire. The Thane was practically slumped out of her chair, one hand dangling down to brush the floor. Her pallor was deathly white. As he stood immobile her hand twitched and a weak pale glow flickered around her fingers. It didn't last long, and her color only pinkened for a second before it faded back to white. She was dying. In two steps Farkas was across the room to pull her carefully into his arms. Her head lolled back in dead weight, pale eyes open but not seeing. He laid his head down by her open mouth. Faint breaths brushed his ear. He wasn't too late.

His big hands trembled as he pulled the stopper on the antidote and tilted the bottle into her mouth. He fed her the entire thing and stroked her throat to make her swallow. Her breath rasped in her chest, but at least he could hear it without leaning close.

Her eyes fluttered open and focused on his face. "Thank you."

Her voice was faint, but she was getting better. The antidote was doing its job. "You're welcome," he said gruffly.

He couldn't help himself, and brushed a stray lock of brown hair from her forehead. She smiled slightly and to his utter surprise she snugged into his hand.

"You smell good," she mumbled, "Like forest and leather and armor oil."

His cheeks pinkened. He couldn't stop stroking her hair but she wasn't complaining. "I don't even know your name," he said.

"My name is Bel. Lydia's upstairs."

"I've met Lydia."

Bel seemed to become more alert and she looked down at herself. "Wow, I'm still naked."

He grinned. "I'm not complaining.

"Not my brightest plan to date," she sighed, "But in my defense I thought it would be Tilma who showed up."

"You got naked for an old lady?" he said. Maybe he'd made a sore mistake in judging what did it for her.

She shoved him weakly. "That's disgusting. No, my armor was too heavy. It was strangling me."

He nodded. Poison did things to people but at least she was getting better. What she needed now was rest and sleep. Farkas slid an arm under her bare legs and around her back. Her skin was warm now and not the deathly cold it had been a while ago. He got to his feet and she settled into the contours of his body like she'd been created for him; her curves fitting into the hard planes of his chest and shoulders. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and see if she smelled as good as she looked, but she was not his woman. That would be taking liberties that were not his to take. He held her for a moment and then went upstairs, the rickety steps creaking under his weight.

"Which room is yours?" he asked.

"Mmph," she snuggled into chest, "..the right."

Farkas was unable to stop the grin that tugged at his mouth. He carefully set her down and tucked her in, smoothing her hair away from her face. Then he left. Kodlak needed to be alerted that the newest member of the Companions was back, and safe.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

_To be continued...Please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** _Please read and review, feedback is awesome! Also, I'm warning you guys now, quests may not be in the strictest order, just sayin'. So if that's a problem, fair warning. So yeah, that's that then. Lemme know whatcha guys think!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing_

.

.

.

**Chapter 3:** Drinking Solves Everything

.

.

Bel groaned. She was conscious, dammit, why was she conscious? She was in far too much pain to be anything at the moment other than shit faced drunk, or passed out. Bel swore, hand reaching out blearily for the water jug by her bed, and then swore again when she remembered that she'd given it to her poisoned unconscious housecarl. Was she strong enough to get out of bed on her own and make it downstairs for more water? Well, it was time to find out.

Bel clawed herself out of bed. The soft furs she used as blankets, usually so warm and lovely when she wanted to sleep, conspired to murder her. They tangled around her legs and Bel slithered out of bed to land upside down on the wood floor with a painful thud.

"Ow."

A pair of silver eyes floated into her blurry line of sight. Male eyes, in her house, unwarranted. Bel sent a weak tongue of flame in the rough direction of the eyes, a tad put out when the weak poof of fire fizzled out before it got anywhere near the intruder. She flailed at the blankets.

"Get out of my house or I will kick your ass." Her voice was decidedly less threatening than she had intended. Bel struggled harder. This was not going well.

The owner of the eyes snorted. "Uh huh. And you're doing so well at that, ass kicker."

Bel gave up fighting her furs and collapsed, arms akimbo. "At least help me back in the bed then. And give me some water while you're at it. Or better yet, mead."

"You're pushing it woman."

He grumbled, but the man helped her into bed, tucking the furs back around her gently. Bel got a good look at him when she was no longer upside down on the floor; it also helped that he was bent over and practically in her face. She would know that scruffy scowl anywhere, even if she couldn't id his nice firm bum.

"Farkas. What are you doing in my house?"

He stared at her like she was a moron. "Did you get stupid when you got yourself poisoned? I saved your life."

Bel frowned, thinking back and wracking her memory. She couldn't remember anything past dragging Lydia to bed after practically shoving the medicine down the housecarl's throat.

"You can't remember anything, can you?" Farkas said.

"Why?" Bel asked, almost dreading the answer, "What did I do?"

He grinned wolfishly. "Not gonna tell you. Get some rest, ass kicker."

Bel wondered briefly what the hell she'd done when she'd be delirious with poison, and decided it best not to ask. For now anyway. Farkas was still looking at her, that grin plastered over his face suggested that he wanted to gobble her up, and not in the typical big bad wolf fashion. Bel shivered, and she had a feeling that it would be most glorious. One look at those sinful silver eyes and broad shoulders and her mind went straight down the gutter. She wondered how far she could push him before he did just that. She couldn't help a grin sliding across her face. She had a new goal in life.

But that would have to wait. She was up now, and coherent, and there were quests to do and things to finish.

"Ugh, I can't," she said, trying to extract herself from the bed again, "I have errands to run."

"Errands?" he said, exasperated, "What errands?"

"Errands," she said primly, managing to stand on wobbly legs.

Farkas caught her when she stumbled and would have fallen. "I can't let you go anywhere. Lydia's not well enough to babysit your sorry ass, and letting you go out alone in your condition is tantamount to murder."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Well I'm going. And I'm all better now, anyway."

He stared at her. "Are you now? And that fire before was just, what? A hiccup?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer."

Farkas followed her down the stairs where she pulled on a woolen shift and buckled on dark spiky orcish armor that glimmered faintly with magic. Bel pulled on her boots, and he stared unabashedly as the supple leather sheathed her long legs. She had some damn fine legs, that was for sure. He was faintly disappointed when more armor covered her, hiding her tanned skin from view.

She flicked gloved fingers and a thick, glittering white mist curled around her. Bel cracked her neck and fingers. The healing spell was doing its job, and doing it well. It felt good to be back in business. Her magic was almost full up, and that healing spell had had her feeling better than the rest and the potion combined.

"I'll just have to come with you," Farkas muttered finally.

She paused, right in the middle of reapplying her red warpaint. "What?"

"I said I'll have to come with you."

"I heard you the first time," she murmured, shaking her head. Bel fitted her wooden mask over her face and pulled her brown hood over her head. The velvet cloth felt soft against her ears, and when she looked in the mirror she felt appropriately badass. Once she grabbed her bow and arrows and her pack she would be ready to rock.

"Alright I'm ready," she said, facing him, "But you'll have to borrow some armor. Yours sucks."

He looked down at himself. "Then why does everyone die when I want them to? I'm still here, my enemies aren't. My armor is fine. Besides, I ruin clothes when I wolf out."

"Just take the damn armor."

"Fine." Farkas strapped on the steel plate armor, and immediately felt stronger. Bel had probably enchanted it, and he wanted to punch something to see if it would do what he thought it would. Instead he glowered at her. "Happy now?"

"Immensely."

The wicked grin on her face made him realize that he'd just stripped right in front of her and that she had enjoyed every minute of it. His cheeks pinkened under his stubble, to his horror. Why was he always blushing around her? It made no sense. "Let's get out of here."

"LYDIA!" Bel bellowed at the ceiling, "I'M GOING OUT!"

A muffled "shaddup" echoed from upstairs. Bel waved a hand airily. "We're good to go."

The walk through Whiterun and the surrounding countryside was fairly uneventful, and they only made a tiny detour for Bel to pillage wheat from the local farmers. Farkas shook his head. Her fingers really _were_ sticky. He had overheard Lydia one night at the Bannered Mare saying that if shit wasn't nailed down than the Dovahkiin took it, but he thought she had been kidding. Watching her pull wheat straight out of a field like a farming bandit made him realize Lydia had been dead serious when she said the new Thane was a klepto.

"So where are we going?" Farkas asked when Bel had finished shoving wheat into her apothecary satchel.

"Riverwood. I've had this claw thingy that I was supposed to bring there, but I kept getting distracted," she said.

Farkas rolled his eyes. "What's to get distracted about? It's a quest. You do it, get paid after, end of story."

"Yeah, but one dungeon led to another, and then there was this coven of dark mages, and then a Spriggan with a demon goat attacked me, and well- I got distracted," Bel said, shrugging.

"A demon goat? Seriously?"

"Hey!" Bel said, jabbing a finger at him, "That thing had glowing eyes. If it had been running at you, bleeting all creepy like, you'da been freaked out too."

He grinned. "So did you kill the scary goat?"

"Nope. Lydia did. I don't do goats. They're creepy even when they're not possessed by tree people."

"Whatever. We're here. Where are you supposed to take the stupid claw?"

Bel dodged a chicken that had been pecking near her feet. "The Riverwood Trader."

Farkas snorted. "That's an original name. Let's get this over with."

They strode down the main thoroughfare, making a beeline for the Riverwood Trader. Farkas had only been to Riverwood a few times in his career as a Companion. He didn't head to the small villages unless he could help it, which meant usually for a job. The little nondescript villages were just too boring. Riverwood was no different. There was one main street, and a few houses. The inn was the only interesting place, and that was because they sold a good mug of ale.

Farkas was just about to suggest that he wait in the inn while Bel did her thing, when some blond prancing nancy with a harp stopped them.

"Excuse me, Bel, right? Are you going to the trader?" he asked in a tremulous voice.

Bel nodded. "Yep."

"Then please give this letter to Camilla," he said, handing her a ratty piece of paper.

"Sven, is this about the chick you and Faendal keep going all googly over?" Bel asked, squinting at it.

Sven sniffed. "Why, what has that elven fruitcake said?"

"Nothing. I'll deliver the damn letter."

"Thank you." Not sounding at all grateful, Sven pranced off, strumming his harp.

Farkas crossed his arms. This was getting more complicated than he wanted, but he could see now why she got 'distracted.' "Now what?" he rumbled.

Bel had been reading Sven's letter with absolutely no shame and she busted up laughing. "Change of plans. The claw can wait. We're going to go see Faendal and see if there's more drama for me to meddle in."

Farkas groaned. "Why me?"

She slapped his arm. "Oh please. Love triangles are far more entertaining than some grubby old golden claw. Besides, I'm not going to pass up a chance to screw with Faendal."

"Why?"

"Because the asshole shot me," Bel muttered.

Farkas wanted to hit something, but he restrained himself. "Why did he shoot you?"

"We partnered up when I first came to Riverwood. I wanted to get the jump on some bandits, and he shot me. Said it wasn't right, attacking unsuspecting men."

"They're bandits," Farkas said incredulously, "They're in the evil business. Getting killed comes with the territory."

Bel shrugged. "That's how I saw it. Dude put an arrow in my knee. I was lucky I'm so good with magic, or I would have ended up like the Whiterun guards."

Farkas cracked his knuckles. "That's it. If I'm not satisfied with your head tricks then I'm going to wipe the floor with his ass. Let's go find this guy."

"Now you're talking."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** _Thanks for the reviews guys, they're awesome, lol and makin' me blush! Please continue to let me know whatcha think, feedback rocks my world!_

**Disclaimer**: _I own nothing._

.

.

.

**The Milk Drinker's Revenge**

Chapter 4

.

.

Farkas paced behind her like like a restless wolf, and if she didn't look at him, Bel could almost imagine that a giant hairy mutant canine was lurking behind her instead of an absurdly good looking Nordic dude. Sven's letter was clenched in her fist, and as she stalked up to Faendal she squelched the urge to light him up like an snobby elven torch. Faendal had cost her her dignity, a good deal of time and experience, and a hell of a lot of loot when he'd betrayed her without warning. Bel had been set back a full day. She wasn't a lot, but she could hold a grudge like nobody's business.

Faendal shooting her in the knee? Oh yea, she carried a grudge like a giant carried a super sized club. For the longest time Bel had entertained blowing him to smithereens, but she hadn't been sure if she could have gotten away with murdering him in Riverwood, and losing Riverwood's business wasn't something that she could afford. She still thought about it though, quite fondly actually.

The Bosmer elf seemed to sense the fact that there was someone nearby who wanted to set him on fire and dance on his flaming remains because he abruptly straightened from his wood chopping and reached for his bow. Bel made sure to wipe the murderous thoughts off of her face before she approached him. Creeped out and afraid people didn't manipulate well.

"Hey Faendal," she said airily, like he hadn't almost killed her, "Got a moment?"

He didn't set down his bow and his gaze flitted to Farkas, who was fairly prowling along behind her. Faendal held his bow loosely, the string without an arrow, but he kept his quiver within easy grabbing reach. Smart man.

"What do you want?"

She held up her hands. "Geez, chill. Got a moment? I need some archery training."

Faendal sighed. "Fine. But I'm not partnering up with you."

"Why?" Bel asked. She was genuinely curious. He had shot_ her_, not the other way around.

"Because I am well aware that whenever I'd train you when you were my companion, you would take my money back from my knapsack when I was otherwise occupied."

Farkas watched Bel turn an astonishing shade of red and she mumbled something about "it's not stealing if we're partners." He grinned. She really was pretty when she was embarrassed. Fuck, she was pretty when she was elbows deep in dead bandits and looting like a madwoman. Farkas leaned his hip against the woodpile and crossed his arms, grin widening as her pinkening cheeks started to blend in with her war paint.

"Lydia wasn't kidding," he said, reaching out and tugging fondly on a stray braid, "Klepto."

Bel batted his hand away, still red. "Shut up."

Faendal wasn't impressed with either of them. "Do you want the training or not?"

"Yeah, yeah." Bel knew that she could put an arrow right in his eye all the way from the other end of town, but she needed him to keep talking to her. Drama was on the line here.

She set down Sven's letter and hefted the ebony bow she was quite proud of. It was a beautiful piece, her baby. Found in one of the draugr crypts littering Skyrim, she'd almost cried when she saw how much damage it dealt out compared to the dwarven one she had been using earlier. The twisted black wood absorbed all light, and the poison she applied to it regularly gave it a slight green sheen that showed up nicely against the dark wood.

Faendal wasn't admiring her bow, however. He was reading Sven's letter. Bel enjoyed watching his face change from incredulous exasperation to disgust. He crumpled it in his fist, fine boned face twisting in unabashed fury. For a moment she thought he was going to attack her and flames licked along her fist, ready for a confrontation. If he struck first, then she could kick his ass without fear of the town retaliating. She would have so much fun looting his corpse, yes, yes she would. Bel would take the clothes off of his back and leave him propped up in his skivvies somewhere, probably on main street cuddling a goat or something, maybe wearing a frying pan for a hat.

"Hey!" Bel snapped, yanking the letter back his destructive grasp, "I was supposed to deliver that!"

"That twittering lute strumming_ barmaid_ has nothing to offer Camilla," Faendal spluttered angrily, fists clenching and unclenching as though Sven's neck were around for him to strangle.

Farkas snorted. He wasn't going to argue against that the blond tavern singer was more of a girl than most of the women he knew, but it sounded to him like Camilla lady in question wouldn't be much better off with the elf either. Sven couldn't fight off a rampaging butterfly, and Faendal had shown that he could easily shoot a woman in the back for stepping outside the bounds of his misguided ideas of morality. He wouldn't be surprised if Faendal turned out to be a wife beater in a few years, and Sven would probably die from crotch rot. Both men were complete douchebags.

Bel shrugged, deciding not to point out to Faendal that he wasn't exactly the picture of heroic manliness himself. "Eh. I'm not particularly a fan of him, but a mission is a mission."

"Would you consider taking a letter of my own, instead?" Faendal asked tentatively.

Bel absentmindedly picked at a thread on her gloves, studying their lock picking enchantments as she pretended to consider his question. "Oh I don't know, you did shoot me after all…"

"Fine," Faendal threw up his hands, exasperated, "I'll give you gold if you give her the damn letter."

"Now you're talking." Bel held out her hand expectantly and he slapped a small coin purse into it along with a small piece of parchment.

Faendal stomped off angrily, rid of several coins and an embarrassing love letter. Bel watched him go and shook her head. Poor Camilla. If she picked either one of them her life would never be the same. For all they claimed to be head over heels for her, Bel suspected things would be drastically different if the poor shop girl actually got married to one of them. She'd go from the iron fisted rule of her asshole brother to the philandering arms of Sven, or Faendal who would be free with the back of his hand.

What she needed was liberation, and Bel was just the Imperial gal to give it to her.

Farkas was watching Faendal depart with a rather hungry look on his face. "I think we should kick his ass, just a little bit at least."

Bel snorted. "Eh, it's not worth it. I step out of line again and that'll be it for me. I don't want to get black listed from Riverwood. It's mostly stupid here, but Delphine and Orgnar are cool and I like getting drinks with them."

"What could you possibly do to get in trouble _here_?" Farkas asked, raising an eyebrow, "There's nothing here but a few farms and a bunch of stupid chickens."

Her gaze slid guiltily away from his and he groaned in realization. "You broke into someone's house, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I think the chicken was the last straw."

"You shot a _chicken_?"

"Technically I punched it."

"Oh god."

":It was in my way!"

"Heaven help us if it was a baby, instead of a chicken," he mumbled.

"I would _not_ have shot or punched a baby," Bel said adamantly.

"Whatever."

They made their way to the Riverwood Trader, dodging chickens and townsfolk. The sunlight drifted down through the trees, dappling the road in green and gold light. Riverwood was a very boring place, but it was also very pretty. The cool autumn sun seemed to reach all the right places and Bel enjoyed the feeling of the heat baking the back of her neck and shoulders through the chinks of her armor.

Dorthe was just leaving, and Bel stuck her tongue out at the little girl as she and Farkas entered the store.

"That was mature," he said, resuming his habit of tugging at a stray braid, "What'd that kid ever do to you?"

"Don't let her midget stature fool you," she muttered, digging in her pack for the claw, "That brat put a hit out on me once."

Farkas rolled his eyes. "You got contracted out by a ten year old? Why am I not surprised?"

"I may have liberated a few more cheese wheels than I should have when I rescued Hadvar from Helgen."

To Bel's complete surprise Farkas held the creaky wooden door to the Trader open for her. She stopped and stared at it, and then looked at him. "What is this?"

"Well, I _was_ being nice, but now I'm going to hit you in the ass with it," he snapped.

"Ah ha, now that makes sense," she said, and danced out of the way of the door as he made good on his threat.

Lucan Valerius was behind the counter of his store, drumming his fingers on the rough hewn surface. He was glowering at Camilla, who sat stiffly in a chair by the fire, but he looked up at them as they tromped in. Bel was amazed at how fast the glower left his face, replaced by a winning salesmen smile.

"Welcome to the Riverwood Trader," Lucan called.

Bel dug the beat up golden claw out of her pack and tossed it on the counter. "Got your thingy."

All trace of the salesmen smarm was gone. Lucan leaned forward to reverently grasp it in his dirty hands and Camilla left her seat to cautiously approach the counter. They both gathered around the claw like it was a well of eternal youth or something exceedingly more valuable then it actually was. Bel glanced around the shop, mentally noting that most of the Trader's cheaper things had lost their forbidding red hue. Bel wasn't able to explain it, but she'd always been able to tell if she could take something and get away from with it before she actually did it. Call it a gift. She grinned. It was a gift she had no trouble abusing to its fullest extent.

"You found it! There it is!" Lucan cackled, holding it aloft.

"Yep," Bel said cheerfully, "I risked life and limb, but I finally got it. Gotta tell you though, that dungeon I found it in was reeeaaallly tough."

Lucan blinked at her.

Bel held out her hand. "Reeeeallly tough."

Lucan sighed. "FINE."

He plunked a moderately heavy coin purse into her hand and Bel jiggled it testing its weight. "Thanks!" she said brightly.

Bel proceeded to relieve Lucan Valerius of all of his cheese wheels and spare gold coins, shoving them into her pack. What she couldn't fit, she ate. Bel turned around, mouth full of half of a cheese wheel to find Farkas watching her with an odd expression that suggested he couldn't decide whether to be fascinated or disgusted.

"What?" she said, swallowing.

He blinked. "That was- um...there are no words."

Bel shrugged. "I have no scruples I know, and I love cheese. I have an entire_ room_ dedicated to cheese up in Solitude."

Farkas stared at her, incredulous. "Seriously?"

"I shit you not. I stack cheese in Proudspire when I'm bored. The giants and inn keepers hate me for obvious reasons."

"Yeah, because you _steal_ their shit, jackass."

Bel helpfully waggled her slim and elegant fingers at him. Fingers he wondered, that would probably be adept at wrapping and sliding sinfully around his-

She poked him in the forehead, cutting off his train of thought. "I don't know what the hell you're thinking about, dude, but quit it."

He leered at her wolfishly. "Make me."

"Psh. Settle down Balto, you wouldn't be able to handle this fine package," Bel said, slapping her own ass.

Farkas opened his mouth to retaliate but Lucan beat him to the punch. The shop keeper threw up his hands in horror. "Dear god! Not in my shop you won't! I know you did me a favor, but I am not _that_ nice. Go terrorize someone else."

Bel rolled her eyes. "Fine. C'mon Farkas, I wanna say hi to Delphine before I leave."

He followed her hopefully. "Will there be alcohol?"

"Oh yes," Bel said firmly, "I never pass up a chance to get shit faced drunk and make bad decisions."

Farkas snorted, but didn't say anything.

"Before I go, these are for you!" Bel said cheerfully, and handed Camilla both letters.

Bel did not stay around to see the fallout. She scrambled out the door so fast it banged off the wall. Farkas followed her out of the Trader and down the street to the inn, wondering how this short trip had gotten so complicated so fast. What was supposed to be a simple delivery had now become a foray into something resembling the trashy '_Argonian Maid_' novels. Farkas had a sinking suspicion that it was only going to get more complicated, and he was a little surprised to find that he didn't care. He was having more fun than he had had in years watching the Thane's burglarizing and drama meddling antics.

Bel went straight to the bar at the Sleeping Giant and plunked down on one of the stools. "I'll have a Bloody Wispmother."

Ew. That was girly. Farkas grimaced at her choice and ordered a Nord mead.

Orgnar began to mix tomatoes and alcohol, pureeing the mixture with a long wooden spoon. When it began to resemble a thick red sludge he dumped the blend into a battered goblet and set it in front of her, along with a spoon. Bel burrowed into it happily, forgoing the use of the spoon and instead put her face straight into the goblet.

"Mmmmm."

Farkas slowly swallowed his drink, watching her gurgle her way happily through her booze. "That is disgusting."

"Shut up," Bel muttered thickly.

They were quiet for a bit, and Bel had resumed her drinking slightly more politely. A blond woman in a shabby inn keeper's dress emerged from one of the inn rooms and stopped short at seeing them sitting at the bar. Farkas acknowledge her out of his peripheral, noting that the Wolf inside him was barring its fangs and raising its hackles. He didn't stop casually sipping from the amber bottle in his hand, but he shifted his weight so that he could easily toss Bel behind him if he had to. The woman looked like an inn wench, but he knew a killer when he smelled one.

The woman drifted up to stand next to the increasingly inebriated Thane.

"We need to talk," she said firmly.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**_ Glad you guys like this! I had a tone of fun playing the game, and I'm stoked that people are interested in my interpretation of it. Please continue to let me know what you think, your comments make me insanely happy I must admit. Thanks for dropping me a line, feedback is much appreciated!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

.

.

.

**Chapter 5:** So a Dovahkiin, a Werewolf, and a Thalmor walk into a Bar...

.

.

Bel groaned. Her quest senses were tingling. She knew that somehow she was going to get bullied into doing something dangerous, but she also knew that she would inevitably say yes to whatever Delphine was scheming. Farkas was still casually nursing his mead but Bel knew him well enough now to know that the whole 'not giving a damn' thing was just a front. If there was a fight he would be off that barstool faster than you could say "milk drinking skooma peddler."

"We need to talk," Delphine repeated, casting a tense glance around her inn like she was expecting a hoard of people to suddenly pop out of the woodwork and demand to know what she was talking about.

None of the inn's patrons cared, though, and after a moment Bel sighed. "Okay, lead the way to the bat cave."

Farkas rolled his eyes. Bel said the weirdest things sometimes. She didn't often make sense, he mused, as he trailed along after her and the Delphine woman. That wasn't a bad thing, though. He had never met anyone like her. In Skyrim, women tended to either be helpless or bloodthirsty and vicious fighters. Bel took his notions of women, threw them out, set them on fire, and then stomped on them.

Farkas glanced back at Orgnar. The Bartender was watching Delphine with a pinched and worried expression, and Farkas suddenly got the impression that Orgnar knew a lot more about his wife than the Delphine thought he did, and that he was worried for her.

The Companion shook his head. He didn't know what Delphine's deal was, what scheme she had her hand in, but he did know that there were a lot of people that would kill to have the set up she had: a business, a warm bed to sleep in, and a loyal lover. Delphine didn't know what she had right in front of her, and Farkas hoped that whatever she had planned for Bel wouldn't get them all killed.

The woman in question led them to a nondescript room, and shut the door. The moment the door closed, a hole in the floor revealed itself, steps cut in the stone leading down to what must be a basement. Farkas frowned. It would be a good place for an ambush. He didn't know Delphine, though Bel obviously did.

Bel did not seem concerned, however, and he realized that she had been here before and knew the layout. Farkas decided to trust Bel, trust her to know what she was doing. Delphine tromped into the basement with Bel trailing after. Farkas took his cue from the tiny Thane and decided to let his guard down a tad.

At least enough to allow her to lead the way into the darkness so that he could admire her Orcish Armored backside sway back and forth as she walked.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

"You want me to what, now?"

Delphine repeated herself with all of the patience of addressing a five year old. "Just attend a little party up in Solitude. The Thalmor have news on the dragons' return, I just know it. We need to get inside their embassy and find out what that news is."

And all three of them knew that when she said 'we' it meant 'Bel'.

Farkas found himself feeling sorry for the little Thane. This must happen to her a lot, people expecting her to do difficult things, solve all their problems. His heart went out to her. Quests and battles were fun and exhilarating, but at the end of the day one needed a place to go home to. He imagined her older, without a place to call home, licking her wounds by herself next to a dark hearth and knowing that she would be doing the same thing the next night.

Farkas decided then and there that no matter what, he would be at her side. It was a sobering thought, and it frightened him a little.

Bel sighed and swallowed the last of her drink. "You want me to kill and pillage, don't you?"

Delphine examined her nails. "Of course not. Though, if something strikes your fancy I wouldn't look down on you should liberate some of their things."

The Dovahkiin rubbed her hands together gleefully. "Awesome. The Thalmor always have the good stuff. Especially their namby pampy mages."

Farkas pinched his brow. "You're actually going to agree to this?"

"Why not?" Bel shrugged. "The Thalmor are racist, self centered, and stingy, and they think that attack first and ask questions later are okay. I have no love for them and they have no love for me, and invading their little base might answer some questions. Win win."

"I'm coming with you." His expression dared her to argue against that.

She punched him on the shoulder. "Wouldn't have it any other way, dude."

Delphine looked like a cat that had got into the cream. "Excellent. Head up to Solitude and ask around for Malborn. He'll get you into the party and get everything sorted out."

Bel nodded and held out her hand. "You got yourself a deal."

Delphine shook it.

An hour later, Farkas found himself walking farther away from Whiterun than he had intended when he agreed to accompany her, headed towards Solitude.

The walk was nice. It was one of the reasons he lived in Skyrim. There was no other place like it. Sure, he'd roamed Tamriel in his younger days, romped all over Cyrodiil and even took a trip out to Morrowind once, but Skyrim was home. The place was wild and beautiful, and he'd called it home for years and yet it still managed to take his breath away.

The mountains rose up around them, casting lengthening shadows on the rocky path as the day waned into night. The moons' silhouettes became more stark as the evening darkened to dusk, the aurora borealis dancing in slow gem colored ribbons across the sky.

"We'd be there by now if we'd taken horses," Farkas said.

"Bah. Why spend money when walking is just as productive?" Bel said, scanning her map for a suitable place to spend the night.

Farkas didn't disagree with her, mainly because he liked following her around. Renting horses would mean that following her would be that much closer to coming to an end.

Bel looked back at him, folding up the map to stash it back in her pack. "Well, I'm in the mood to sleep in a bed tonight. I have a house in Markarth but we're too far away to reach it tonight. We shall have to improvise."

Farkas's mind executed a quick and immediate sensual train wreck when he thought about 'Bel' and 'bed' in the same sentence. Then he paid more attention to her tone and the mischievous look on her face.

"There's a catch, isn't there?" he said.

Her grin widened. "Fort Sungard is closest, but it's a Forsworn stronghold. Lydia and I cleaned it out a few weeks ago, but they've probably reclaimed it by now. But there will be food and beds, so if you are up for a fight it should be worth the effort.

Farkas rubbed at the scruff on his chin. "Forsworn, eh? Those the people that run around naked wearing scraps of fur and shrubbery?"

Bel nodded. "Yep. None of them wear pants, but they have fantastic hats. I've been trying to get Lydia to wear one for ages, but no luck."

He correctly guessed the look she was sending him and glowered at her. "You won't get me to wear one either."

"We'll see about that," Bel muttered.

They crept to the outskirts of Sungard and sure enough there were Forsworn guards patrolling the fort's high walls. They crouched near the gate, just out of sight. Bel pulled out her bow and nocked one of her good arrows, careful to poison it before she put it to the string.

"Okay, here's the plan," she whispered, "I'm going to snipe as many as I can until they figure out someone is shooting at them. Then you can kick ass. Don't do anything until I've taken out as many as possible, capisce? There are a lot of them."

"Fine." Farkas nodded. She was the boss.

Bel pecked his cheek before slipping her wooden Volsung mask back over her face. Only her eyes glittered behind the wood. The mask and her hood shrouded her entire face, giving her an ominous look. Bel pulled the string of her bow back to her cheek, the black feathers of her Falmer arrows brushing her mask with a slight rasp. There was a barely imperceptible _thwap_ noise as she loosed the arrow, and one of the Forsworn fell from the battlements with a quiet cry.

Four more fell, but the fifth let out a yell when her arrow flew wide and hit him in the shoulder instead of the head.

"Woops," Bel muttered, "Missed. I need to work on my stamina."

Yells echoed out the recesses of Fort Sungard as the Forsworn finally figured out someone had been shooting at them for the last five minutes. Farkas drew his broadsword and the steel rang as it cleared the sheath.

"Here they come," he said.

Bel stashed her bow and clenched her gloved fists. Fire licked along the leather, waiting to be unleashed.

"Wait for it," she murmured, walking in the gate of Fort Sungard.

Arrows clattered at their feet and Farkas squinted up at the battlements, trying to see who was shooting at them so he could kill them later. Eight Forsworn rushed towards them, clad in nothing but animal fur and sticks, brandishing bone swords.

"Wait for it," she said again, and Farkas moved to cover her back. The Forsworn were behind them too.

"_FUS RO DAH!_" Bel shouted.

The Voice flung the attacking Forsworn all the way across the courtyard to land like crumpled heaps of dirty laundry.

"Okay," Bel said, clapping her hands together to form a massive fireball, "We can go now."

Farkas bared his teeth. Finally.

He dropped his sword. His Wolf was just under his skin, itching to come out, and with the night coming on fast, the moons' call was just too strong to ignore. With a gut wrenching howl, his skin split, the Wolf erupting out of the man.

Dark sable fur sheathed his body and he grew, towering over the men and women of the Forsworn who looked at him with fear in their eyes. He turned his muzzle to the sky, offering up a long lonely call to the moons.

The man shifted back into his subconscious, the Wolf surging to the forfront of their mind to take charge.

Then he charged into the fray, tossing Forsworn like they were dolls. Dolls that bled when he pulled their arms and legs off, dolls that tasted warm and hot and coppery when he bit into them. He dimly registered arrows punching into him, and balls of fire rocketing overhead to smash into his enemies.

Soon, the only thing left in Sungards outer courtyard was him, and a woman that smelled like magic and smoke and dragon.

His Wolf whined and subsided as she approached. He smelled danger when she came close to him, fire now extinguished and hands outstretched, but he also smelled something else. Something that made the Wolf want to curl up at her feet, and the man do something else entirely. She smelled like home.

Farkas made a quiet chuffing noise when her small gloved hands curled into his thick dark fur.

"Easy big guy," she said quietly, "It's just me."

That was hardly necessary. He knew it was just her, how could he not? Her welcome scent assuaged him, overwhelming his senses until he was drunk on it. He lowered his head so that she could scratch behind his ears. His eyes nearly rolled back into his head. It felt so damn good. If Aela or Skjor could see him now, getting scratched like an oversized dog, he would never hear the end of it. But Farkas found himself realizing that he could give a flying skeever what they thought.

"That's this area done," she said softly, hand sliding down to rest against his furred chest, "We still have to clean out the rest of the castle before we can rest."

He snuffled at her hood. Now that he was closer, he could detect the nuances to her scent. There was a hint of wildflowers and woman underneath the scent magic and fire and dragon. It was very, very pleasant.

"Hey!" She reached behind him and yanked on his tail.

He growled at her, miffed that she would grab at his backside.

"Don't look at me like that," she muttered, rubbing at the edge of her mask where it met her hood, "Your whiskers went in my ear."

He lolled his tongue out at her and showed her his teeth, the closest his Wolf could come to a laugh.

Bel rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, you are such a comedian. Come on, I'm starved, and the Forsworn aren't going to kill themselves."

Farkas followed her willingly into the darkness of Sungard, dull light gleaming off of his teeth as he smiled.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

_To Be Continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **_Thanks for all of the feedback guys! Please read and review, I love hearing from you, it quite literally makes my day ;) Sorry it's been so long. Collage this semester has been running me ragged. Can't wait for the break. Then it will be just surviving the Christmas rush at work, but at least that doesn't require complex thought. Any of you played Dishonored yet?_

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing_

_._

_._

_._

**The Milk Drinker's Revenge**

Chapter 6

.

.

It didn't take them long to clean out Fort Sungard. Soon, the castle stood empty except for the occasional skeever that had been smart enough to hide where neither Bel or Farkas could get at them. Farkas couldn't believe that she even went after skeevers, but sure enough Bel spent most of her time launching fireballs after the fanged rodents, bouncing them into things in flaming squealing balls of fire.

When the fort was finally silent, they set up camp in one of the smaller alcoves. It would retain heat and would be easily defensible should anyone decide to pick a fight in the night. Farkas built a fire and set up the cooking rods while Bel walked up and down the corridor, mining the pathway with explosive sigils.

"There," she said, sitting next to him and dusting off her hands, "No surprises tonight. If anyone tries to sneak, _kablam_!"

Farkas tapped his nose. "It's not like anyone could anyway. Part wolf, remember? Good sense of smell."

"Yeech, really?" she inched away from him and gave her armor a subtle sniff. "Sorry I probably reek."

He coughed uncomfortably and rubbed at the back of his neck. Suddenly he was glad for the layer of dirt and stubble. She wouldn't see him blush. "No. You, you smell good."

"Huh. Either you or Lydia must be lying to me, because she tells me I stink all the time."

Bel reached into her pack and pulled out strips of goat meat and apples and cheese and bread. They didn't have any utensils so she spitted the meat and apples on skewers over the fire. They'd eat them over bread along with the cheese once it was cooked. The meat crackled and popped as she turned it, filling the little room with the aroma of cooking food.

"Why did you decide to join the Companions?" Farkas asked suddenly. He'd been wondering for a while. Bel seemed like such an oddball, even though he liked her immensely. She didn't seem like the sort of person who would fit in with such a close knit group, or would even like trying.

"I'm not sure you'll like the answer," she said sheepishly.

"Tell me," Farkas said. Either way he wanted to know more about her. There were no words to explain what Bel was; she didn't fit into any of his initial views of womanhood.

"I saw you," she said, cheeks turning pink.

He felt like someone had clubbed him over the head with a Dwarven mallet. "What?"

"Don't laugh," she said hastily. "I watched you defeat the giant, and it just, I dunno happened. I like a man that can kick ass and take names. I followed you into Whiterun and it just kind spiraled from there."

"You picked my pocket," he said flatly.

"Yes! No! I mean-, I'm sorry. I steal things, I can't help it. I wanted to know more about you and-"

"Stealing my money purse was the best way to do it?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Actually, yes," she muttered, "you wouldn't believe what some people carry in their pockets."

He snorted and reached for a skewer. Bel's way of finding more out about a person meant reaching around in their pockets. In hindsight, he realized as he considered the meat, she was probably right. That didn't mean he had to admit it though. The meat was nicely browned and dripping juice down into the apples.

"And then you had a nice bum, and I may have accidentally grabbed it-"

"Accidentally?"

"Shut up, you," Bel shook her finger at him. "You asked me to tell a story so I'm telling it."

"Pardon my insolence, My Lady. Please continue."

"Ugh." She threw up her hands. "Alright. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do though, until Vilkas told me I couldn't join. Then I had to."

"So you ultimately joined the Companions because I had a nice butt, and my brother told you you couldn't come play in the tree house with the rest of the kids?"

Her eyes slid guiltily away from his. "You didn't have to put it so bluntly."

Farkas threw back his head and laughed. "I'm not upset, far from it. If it had been anyone else then maybe but- Woman, I've never met anyone like you."

Her cheeks pickened under the dirt and soot and warpaint. "Aww. You say the nicest things to me."

Farkas watched her as the silence drifted between them amicably. Bel was poking at the fire with a stick and using her magic to make the resulting sparks dance like little flame atronachs. The firelight made her brown hair glint like burnished metal. It was extremely pretty and a weird contrast to her spiky Orcish Armor.

"So." Farkas cleared his throat slightly unsettled by the fact that a girl could derail his train of thought so easily. "What is the plan for the mission?"

Bel dropped her poking stick and stretched. "Generally my plans involve a lot of sneaking, and then running and explosions when I get caught."

"How are you still alive?" Farkas asked, incredulous. He honestly wanted to know. Bel's method of going through life seemed rather haphazard, to say the least.

Bel snorted. "Pure dumb luck, excellent aiming skills, and Lydia if I'm going to be completely honest.

Farkas's jaw clenched and he reached for her poking stick to jab at the fire. "Well, you've got me now too." he mumbled. "I'm not gonna let anything hurt you."

Bel rested her chin on her knees, clasping her arms around her legs. Her pale eyes were large in her thin face, made all the more stark by the dirt and the blood red warpaint. "Thanks," she said softly. "It means a lot, especially considering that most of the people I run into I end up pissing off."

He chuckled and reached out to tug on a thick brown braid. "I can't imagine why, thistle."

"Oh my god, did you just nickname me?"

He grinned at her wolfishly and was completely unapologetic.

She dropped her face into her hands and groaned. "Oh god, it's going to stick. Sweet Mara's tits, once you get nicknamed it can't be undone."

"Don't be such a milk drinker and quit your complaining. It suits you. You're so damn _prickly_." Farkas neglected to mention the fact that it was also because he thought she was pretty and sweet in her own sassy, klepto sort of way.

She raised her head to glare at him. "Lydia can NEVER find out about this. Never."

Farkas leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, stretching his feet out towards the fire. "No promises, thistle."

"I hate you."

He glanced at her and was delighted at the frustrated pink staining her cheeks. He'd done that. He like the way they bickered. Bel was all fire and sass and she challenged him like no one else. He also got the idea that she enjoyed shocking him and picking arguments that they both ended up wading into quite happily. This _thing_ that they had, he didn't know what to make of it, but he also didn't want it to stop.

"So about the plan," Bel said finally. She pulled their dinner off of the fire and handed him a skewer. They ate the meat and apples together with the bread, each using a hard half of a loaf like an impromptu plate. Desert was one of Bel's carefully hoarded cheese wheels and a fist full of sour juniper berries.

"Tomorrow we'll head up through the Reach, hitting Markarth along the way to Solitude. I don't really follow the roads if you haven't noticed. We'll get to Solitude eventually." Bel brushed bread crumbs off of her armor.

Farkas nodded. "You are aware the Reach is infested with Forsworn and Hagravens, right?"

"Eh, I'm not too worried. Hagravens are scary until you stick them with a few arrows, and the Forsworn think it's cool to wear armor made of shrubs. It's getting them to hold still while you set them on fire that's the problem. All that swirling and twirling, I wish I were that limber."

"You're the boss," he said shrugging.

"Damn straight. Give me your armor, it's probably due for another enchanting." Bel held out her hand.

Farkas unbuckled his armor, feeling oddly naked without it. The absence of the familiar weight left him feeling open and vulnerable. Even though he knew that both of them had killed every hostile thing in the fort, he still glanced around uneasily. It hadn't even been five seconds and he already missed his armor.

Bell laid her hands over his armor and began to murmur. A dark opalescent green light played out from her fingertips, coating his armor.

"What'd you do?" Farkas asked, interested.

"Oakflesh," she answered. "It'll help absorb damage. Here, you can have it back now."

Farkas hastily buckled on his armor and breathed a sigh of relief when it was on. He had no desire to be one of the unfortunate legends that were killed because they got caught with their pants down. Vilkas would laugh til his dying day, and then even in the afterlife Farkas would never hear the end of it.

Bel grinned, like she knew exactly what he was thinking. "We'd better get some sleep. You want first watch? Or shall I take it?"

"I'll take it," Farkas said, slouching to the doorway. His Wolf stretched out its senses, glad to be doing a little hunting even if it meant standing still.

Bel yawned and curled up by the fire, head pillowed up on her pack. In seconds she was fast asleep, snoring a little. Farkas looked at her sleeping face and shook his head. She was out cold, curled up into a tight little ball by the fire. Upon closer inspection he noticed that she'd started to drool a bit.

He shook his head again fondly. What a weird girl.

.x.

_To be continued..._


End file.
